


Changes, Changing

by spacemonkey



Category: Metallica
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was having that dream again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes, Changing

**Author's Note:**

> This was written way back in the good ole days of 2008.

His footsteps were pounding against the pavement, slapping in the puddles, water in his eyes and Lars didn’t bother wiping his face.  
  
He was having that dream again.  
  
Same one he’d had a bunch of times, just keep on running and running while it rained down on him, and eventually he’d stop. He’d be somewhere, lost, and he’d stand and look around, look through the rain and feel like panicking. He’d shiver and wrap his arms around his waist, hating himself for wearing shorts, hating himself for being such a dick, for running and then James would come.  
  
Lars stepped in a deep puddle, felt the water splash up against his bare shins. He ignored it. His runners were soaked, squelching with every step and it felt completely gross, but that was fine by him.  
  
James would come, headlights shining through and Lars could practically feel the annoyance, the worry, the disappointment, the  _love_ radiating from the car as he kept his back to it; kept the chase up because it made James shake his head and yell at him to stop being a dick and  _get in the car_. It made Lars smile, still hiding and shivering as the car door slammed and James grabbed him. A bit rougher than was necessary, then the touch would soften with a murmured, “you’re fucking freezing” and then it would disappear altogether and be replaced with James’ heavy jacket and that’s when Lars would look at him.  
  
Lars knew it, he’d really fucked up this time, because he was having the dream and it kept on going. He was pretty sure he should have stopped by now, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that, like he couldn’t reach up and wipe his face because he was sure it wasn’t just the rain soaking him.   
  
James would blink through the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, making him look like a fucking kid, and his mouth would be in a firm line. Lars would stare back, equally pathetic looking; more so, because he was wearing shorts and an oversized jacket and he was pretty sure his shoes would never dry, and they would look at each other in the rain, squinting and then both start laughing. “You fucking idiot,” James would say, affectionate even if he was still annoyed, and Lars would nod in agreement, couldn’t really argue when he was in fucking shorts in the middle of a downpour, and he’d get in the car when James opened the door for him.   
  
Wasn’t anybody outside that he could see, not that he could see far. For all he knew, Lars could have been ten steps away from a cliff and that would be a pretty sad way to go out, but he was pretty sure, at least ninety percent, that no one else was around. They’d have to be pretty crazy to be outside, or a complete idiot. Not even a car that he could see. He knew that for certain; he’d been looking out.  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” James would continue once he had the windscreen wipers going, looking down at the seats as the water quickly soaked through. “Jesus.” He’d start the car, pull away from the curb, wipers frantically trying to fight away the rain and failing completely. “Lars? Can’t see a fucking thing. What were you doing out there?” Lars would shrug, because he didn’t know, and James would chew on his lip, not watching the road as much as he should, and then smile wryly. “Your dad called me,” he’d offer, conversationally. “Told me to come find your ass, bring you back. Because apparently it’s my fucking job.” He’d smile again, and Lars would stare out the window. “Not talking? Shit, that’s a fucking first.”  
  
He was having that dream again, he was sure of it. Ninety percent sure with his feet still pounding against the ground, a sick thud from the water and it terrified him how real the sound was.  
  
James would pull the car over, abruptly and nearly hitting a mailbox, after fifteen minutes of silence. They couldn’t be home, he’d run further than that, and James would look at him until he had to look back. With his hair beginning to dry and fluff up and curl like it used to when it was long and they were kids, Lars would have to smile at James. “What?” James would ask, but before Lars could shoot back  _you’re the one who stopped_  or  _there’s water dripping down my neck_  or what he really wanted to say, James would be kissing him.  
  
Seventy percent sure, maybe sixty as he ran and wiped his face and some of the wetness was hot; perfect time to stop running, and Lars nearly slipped as he planted his feet down and then righted himself. He didn’t know this neighbourhood, he didn’t know that goddamn mailbox, and he could barely see either as he shivered and tightened his arms around his waist. Took a deep, shaky breath and then a steady one as he kept an eye out for headlights. Maybe forty percent. Forty percent sure it was a dream.  
  
They’d go back to James’ place, have a hot shower and get rid of their wet clothes and find some dry ones and then not wear them to bed, where James would look at him, worried and still slightly annoyed and muttering that Lars should pay for the water damage to his car. Lars would agree, anything to get James to shut up and kiss him again, and after a few more minutes of complaining and roaming hands and that fucking concerned look that Lars hated, he’d do just that and finally Lars would stop shivering.  
  
Lars squinted through the rain, muttered, “come on, come on,” and started running again twenty minutes later, knowing he’d really fucked up this time.


End file.
